Why can't reality just keep calm and carry on?
by Virgin in a brothel
Summary: Arthur Dent has had a fairly traumatic life. He had hoped that he could find some peace on the planet Krikkit; alas, that was not to be. Afterall, dimensions just can't help but collide occasionally. 11th Doctor/River S, potential spoilers S5 and 6.
1. That's just not Cricket

_Hello, readers __This is my first attempt at any H__²G² or DW fan fiction. This first chapter is centred around Arthur Dent, and subsequently we will meet the Doctor. It's just a bit of entertaining procrastination: enjoy..._

_I obviously do not own anything to do with any of these characters, ergo... don't sue!_

**That's just not Cricket.**

The planet of _Krikkit_, with its fertile soils and vast effervescent landscape is an idyllic haven to all those who have the pleasure to perambulate across it, or soar through the air above it. This, at least, is the view that has spread like an intergalactic Chinese-whisper wildfire across the universe. The _Hitch-hikers Guide to the Galaxy_ (though its authority is somewhat spurious) claims that since peace once again fell upon this planet (in a rather improbable manner), the inhabitants of said place have happily, and contentedly, roamed the land staring into the newly re-established lack of sky with a re-affirmed sense of comfort, and the knowledge that they needn't bother about the knowledge that they did, didn't, or do possess. In actual fact, those whose feet were indeed considered lucky enough to tread upon the dewy grass and earthy ground found that spending such an extended period of time staring into the air above them inevitably led to them landing in shit.

Arthur Dent was one such inhabitant. After establishing that his practice of throwing himself at the ground and missing was a rather impractical one, he resolved to plant his aforementioned feet permanently on the horizontal. With the wind no longer in his hair, and his dressing gown no longer billowing out behind him like a grubby flannel cape, he took a second to breath in the air particles floating nearest his nasal cavity. Much to his distaste his sensory centres encountered the heady stench of excrement. He decided to sniff again: still there, almost definitely not absent. He allowed his eyes to trail down the fabric of his attire until they encountered his left slipper. There smiling back as if to say "Hey, made ya' look" was a profoundly dispersed pile of unidentified animal faeces. This is when Arthur decided that this place just wasn't Cricket.

Arthur had spent a substantial amount of time on this pretty little lump of rock, but he was not a native; yet neither did he consider himself an alien. As it was he was proud to be one of the only two surviving _Homo sapiens _within this time zone and since his unexpected departure from his mother Earth he had made a deliberate effort not to get over it; thus, he saw the entirety of non-Earth specimens to be the aliens. This of course seems farcical in the sense of proportionality: two members of one species versus the entirety of creation? This matter however did not faze Arthur in the slightest; after all, he had long since given up rational thinking. The time at which rational thinking was abandoned by this earth-man is an interesting one; and, as has been the course of his life thus far, a rather improbable time. . .

Following his encounter with a large, and not terribly dense, pile of animal faeces Arthur decided to evaluate his life. Stepping as conspicuously as possible out of his defiled slipper so as to draw attention to his distaste, and to amplify the poignant nature of what he thought he was about to do, Arthur headed over to a large rock upon which he sat. He sat, and thought. At first it was rather strained as this was an activity that he hadn't regarded too highly recently, but after a while the cogs were back in motion and his mind seemed encouraged enough to formulate something significant-ish. He thought about the profit that Paul McCartney could have made if only he had been able to plagiarise some of the ditties from Krikkit; he thought of how he had come to treasure his bottle of Greek Olive Oil; eventually, he thought of the earth woman Trisha Macmillan: Trillian. He contemplated what life would have been like if he hadn't failed so miserably at get off with her in an Islington flat many moons ago, and he thought about where she might be now. They were the last of their kind, didn't they have some sort of obligation to keep the human race going? Build an empire? Perhaps this is his destiny, the only thing that had been keeping him alive for so long against some seriously insane odds of probability. He sighed, his head lolling dejectedly in his weary hands.

Then he saw it. A swift glance and then it was gone. He shook his head, and felt a disturbing movement in his inner ear. It had been a while since he was last aware of the extraordinary creature situated somewhere within his head, but its frantic movements alerted him to its presence quite lucidly. What occurred next is not only incredibly bizarre, but also incredibly unlikely. In fact, the next event is so unlikely that it's improbability figures are so astronomically high that in order to write it down without use of complex logarithms it would require ninety-eight percent of the universe's area, in several dimensions, simply to hold the paper required for it to be written on.

Within Arthur Dent's ear was a Babel Fish. The Babel Fish feeds on the energy from a nearby source of communication and excretes a translation in the form of brainwave patterns. The Babel Fish within Arthur Dent's ear had sensed a phenomenal amount of artron energy in a very close proximity; this energy essentially could perform the same task as the fish itself. In order for the fish to survive it was essential that it escaped the confines of Arthurs head and prevented itself from becoming redundant. Redundant in this sense meaning dead. The small creature in a bid for its life propelled itself through the ear canal and shot off through the air towards the ground.

Arthur cried out in unexpected shock and clasped his hand to the side of his head. Once again he saw something out of the corner of his eye. Meanwhile, the fish's attention was distracted seconds before impact by a large blue box and it by chance managed to miss the ground.

Blinking rapidly Arthur tried to see what he thought he had just seen. However, what he had thought that he had just seen seemed . . . absurdly preposterous.


	2. Wrong turn: wrong universe

_Apologies for the delay, here's the Doctor as promised with our favourite Stormcage inmate. _

_Obviously I still own nothing so... don't sue?_

**Wrong turn: wrong universe**

A proud blue box had landed on a new world; new in the sense that the box's inhabitants had yet to step upon it. The box itself _had_ been here, and had in fact been here, there, and everywhere it would already have been to, exist in, or go to in its existence. This situation is a rather complex anomaly for any sentient being that exists across all of time and space but is rather an occupational hazard for a TADIS. In summary, although the current tangible standing of said blue box is not concurrent with the specified co-ordinates its inhabitants selected, it had in fact landed in precisely the correct place.

Without warning the TARDIS doors flew back with a flourish, and a young rather excitable head with dark floppy hair popped out. He gave the air a sniff and scowled. He blinked twice, sniffed again.

From within, a sing song voice with a hint of condescension coated with an eternity of endearment, echoed to the outside world, "I told you we go off course without the stabilisers."

The 'young man' cocked his head to the side and sighed, "I know how to fly my own ship." He seemed to be addressing himself more than anyone else. He elicited no reply. "You must have pressed, pulled, or patted something." He leaned against the doorframe in a huff.

"I've never heard you complain before." Her tone was matter of fact, and her following actions were concealed from outside view. What could be seen from outside was the reddening cheeks of an embarrassed Time Lord.

"Shush you." He retaliated.

"Make me." She replied.

The Doctor smiled a little at this and ran his thumbs underneath his braces. It had become something of a rapport between them: the flirting. He was only just becoming accustomed to it, and yet there was always the fear of losing it; who knew when she would shoot her little catchphrases at him for the first time. The last time. He shook his head and turned to step onto the new world.

Inside the TARDIS a woman with bright, bouncing curls and a devilish smile curled her lips and gently ran a finger across the console. The TARDIS hummed in reply.

"Oh, I know you wanted us here." She nodded to herself as she addressed what appeared to be thin air, "I think even he knows it." She paused. Gears shifting in her head. "He just needs an excuse to argue a little with me this early on." The TARDIS hummed again, apparently pleased by this insight.

"River." He called from outside.

"That's my cue." She left towards the doors, ring finger lingering slightly on the wibbly lever before moving away into the unknown. "Coming sweetie."

He stood head held back, sights set upwards. "Take a look at this."

River allowed her vision to follow, "Interesting sky."

"Or lack thereof." He added whilst absently scratching his cheek.

They both stood side by side, close enough for their proximity to indicate that they were definitely more than mere acquaintances and perhaps more than just friends. River smiled to herself noting how his fingers twitched the closer she edged toward him.

"So, no sky." She remarked. "That's new."

"Well, not strictly speaking." He added whilst his hands, in an attempt to make any movement seem voluntary, began fiddling with his braces again.

"How do you mean?" She averted her gaze from the sky-less view, and focussed on those hands. Those wandering hands, long fingered, delicate, busy, busy hands-

"River." His hand was now waving in front of her face as though trying to wipe her trademark smirk from her lips. "Are you in there?"

She shook her head, "Sorry sweetie, you were saying."

"Quite right. Where did you go?" He asked with an intense sense of intrigue.

River giggled and tapped him gently on the nose, "Spoilers."

He rolled his eyes. _'Spoilers_'it was becoming a repetitive collocation in their exchanges. "As I was saying, this isn't really new. Plenty of planets have no _sky_; at least not in the usual sense. Generally you look up and expect to see something beyond, something in the distance inviting you forward, a star, another planet. Between them you have some sort of barrier. Usually of course it's sort of transparent or translucent, maybe some ozone ..."

River _had_ been listening, she actually enjoys his talking; it's his _thing_. She was distracted however by the man in a tatty flannel dressing gown perched upon a large rock situated behind the rambling Time Lord.

"Sweetie." She attempted to interject.

He continued, "Yes well then there was Babylon Twelve, and they had the most bizarre..."

"Can you just.."

He continued, "Or there was that place where the atmosphere had those genetically..."

She tried again but he was becoming increasingly animated in his little lecture, "Please can you just..."

"Of course everybody wants a bit of me, literally.."

"DOCTOR."

He stopped. "What?" His voice dripping with exasperation.

"Look behind you." Her eyebrows rose as she cocked her head to the side.

The doctor spun on his heel and with arms outstretched exclaimed, "Why hello there!"

Arthur Dent threw his hands toward the blank canvass of sky and let rational thought escape from his body through every orifice. Once complete, and his mind now completely content he turned to the new arrivals, "Sorry about that," he jerked his head as though indicative of his last action, "It's just that I find reality has been behaving rather bizarrely recently and I just thought that if it won't behave properly then I should at least keep calm and carry on." He extended his hand to the Doctor.

"I see." The Doctor grasped Arthur's hand in his and shook it slowly, his eyes contemplating those of the strange man before him. River poised behind the pair smiled bemusedly onward.

Feeling as though he should be more hospitable to the new arrivals Arthur offered his proffered rock, "Would you care to take a seat?"

The Doctor raised his eyebrows, "Seat?"

River placed a hand on the Doctor's back and gently ushered him forward, "Yes, honey. The man is offering us a pew on his rock; be a gentleman and take it graciously."

Slightly flustered by the sudden contact he agreed, "Yes, right. Thanks."

Arthur smiled serenely, "You're welcome."

They all managed to clamber onto the rock. The Doctor placed a hand behind him allowing him to balance. River placed herself very close to this hand. The hand didn't edge away.

"I'm the Doc-"

Arthur interrupted the introduction, "I know."

"I see." The Doctor coughed and nodded to his right, "and this is Ri-"

Arthur interrupted again, "A companion."

"If that's what we're calling it these days." River muttered under her breath.

"Oh sorry, yes. What's your name?" inquired Arthur bashfully.

"River Song." She stuck out her hand and Arthur received it.

"Only in fiction..." Arthur remarked amusedly to himself. His hand shake was rather loose and noncommittal.

River was the one to break the rather uncomfortable ensuing silence after a few minutes had meandered past, "So, this seems a rather odd place to find a humanoid such as yourself."

Arthur was in agreement as the ladies statement was entirely true. However, his current situation suggested to him that he was not in fact the most unlikely inhabitant of that rock. His reply was swift, "It's a rather odd place to find a piece of fiction floating about."

"Fiction?" the Doctor intervened. "I'm sorry, have we met?"

Arthur nodded, "we were introduced by the BBC."

"Pardon?" the Doctor asked now plagued with confusion.

"Yes, you and the cardboard Cybermen and DIY Daleks." The confusion was still however evident in the Doctor's eyes, so Arthur elaborated further, "You know, Doctor Who."

River sighed, "Oh who hasn't asked that one."

The Doctor shook his head and said earnestly, "I'm just The Doctor."

Arthur blinked, "Yes, of _Doctor Who_."

The Doctor tried again, "No, no. Just _The Doctor_."

River, seeing this conversation was going nowhere decided to take control, "Sweetie, I think we're missing something. She addressed the peculiar man on the rock, "I'm sorry..."

"Dent. Arthur Dent." He supplied.

"I'm sorry Arthur, but who or what would the BBC be exactly?" she enquired.

Well, it appeared to Arthur that the BBC had not been entirely accurate in the depictions of the Doctor and his companion's intellect, "British Broadcasting Corporation...Television."

"You've seen him on television?" River pointed towards an equally confounded Doctor.

"Well, last I knew you had curly brown hair and a really long scarf." His eyes became overcast with a nostalgic glow.

The Doctor became excitable, "That was me, yes me... with the Jelly Babies!" He leapt from the rock and started bouncing on his heels, "River I'm famous."

Still talking largely to himself Arthur added, "I always thought it was a bit farfetched, but when you want something to watch on a Saturday night it was good fun."

The Doctor continued basking in his new awareness of his infamy.

"Saturday nights?" River asked.

"Hmmm? Yes, bit of a national institution watching the series." Arthur replied.

"You mean he," she jerked her thumb at the prancing Time Lord, "was in a serial drama."

Arthur nodded.

"This is interesting," She called over to the Doctor, "You never told me you were an actor sweetie."

The Doctor stopped and turned, "and why would I tell you that I was an actor?"

River shook her head feeling a little dejected, he was hard work young. "I just thought it might have been something you would have told me about."

"But I wasn't an actor." The Doctor looked rather taken aback.

"Indeed, you're the Doctor." Arthur intervened.

"Now you get it." The Doctor clapped him on the back, "I'm the Doctor so tell me what you're talking about."

Arthur was finding this all rather tedious. As if it wasn't enough for a fictional character to pop up on his proverbial doorstep, he couldn't even turn up with the intellect that the writers gave him. He was going to have to explain this very slowly.

"Okay, take a seat Doctor, _River Song_." He still couldn't get over that name; only a Doctor Who writer could conjure up that one. "Let me explain..."

Arthur explained, perhaps in too much detail, the entire of the Doctor's broadcasted life (that he could recall). He discussed the franchise animatedly whilst the Doctor and River gazed on dumbfounded. After an inordinately long time Arthur mercifully stopped as though he were a University lecturer, "So, any questions?" He clasped his hands together and became all too aware of his scruffy attire; how he wished he didn't have shit on the foot of his slipper.

The Doctor groaned. "I think I see what's happened here."

Arthur and River looked poignantly at the Doctor, awaiting explanation.

He paused and scratched his chin. "The TARDIS has brought us to another Universe."

River dropped her head into her hands, "Well, when you let the Doctor drive..."

_I think I have one more silly little chapter to follow; this fic is a little experiment for me so I'd appreciate your views. Go on, press the review button, check it's still working..._


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